


Hypothetically

by yeaka



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-07
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-11-27 01:10:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20939810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Jim poses a question.





	Hypothetically

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Star Trek or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

He missed lunch during the Klingon crisis, but that’s all part of being captain—when there’s an enemy shooting at his precious ship, he stays in his chair until he’s absolutely positive the trouble’s over. By the time he finally lets Sulu relieve him, the whole rest of the bridge has already caught up on their much-needed breaks. Spock’s the only other person who hasn’t gotten a chance to breathe, and he tries to stay at his post, ready to assume command, but Jim overwrites that, deciding for both of them, “Spock, you’re with me.”

Spock looks up from his viewer, and in that split second, seems to determine that Jim means _walk with him_ rather than the general, well-known statement that they’re _together._

The two of them step into the turbolift, and Jim determines: “Mess hall.”

It’s telling that the place is nearly empty. Tensions are still running high from the brief skirmish, even though they came out on top with zero casualties. Spock wordlessly joins him at the Synthesizer and politely doesn’t say anything when Jim orders enough pasta to have Bones yelling his head off. Hopefully Spock won’t report the breach of his diet. When Spock’s salad has finished forming, the two of them choose a table near the back. They could go back to Jim’s quarters and properly relax, but he’s starving, and he figures it’s good for moral to be seen up and about. Even if there aren’t many around to see him. 

They both enjoy the first few bites of their meal in a peaceful silence. Kyle’s humming to himself across the room, and Shanti’s mumbling to herself as she takes notes from an open old-fashioned book. Two other ensigns are simply eating. Safely out of their earshot, Jim muses, “Spock, would you still love me if I were Klingon?” It’s a bizarre, humorous question that came to him randomly during a fierce argument with the enemy commander. He can’t imagine how Klingons ever manage to get partners, but they must do it somehow, because they seem to keep multiplying. He’s fairly certain that particular Klingon was having an affair with his beefcake navigator.

Spock looks up from his salad and answers with zero hesitation, “No.”

Jim blinks. That wasn’t the answer he was expecting. “You didn’t even think about it.”

“It was not required; the answer was obvious.”

If it were anyone else, Jim would be laughing, because the whole idea is a joke. But with Spock, his partner, his co-pilot, his _t’hy’la_, he can’t imagine _any_ circumstances where they weren’t together. Perhaps because of the obviously troubled look on Jim’s face, Spock elaborates, “If you were a Klingon, you would not be Jim Kirk, and thus you would not be the man I am currently invested in.”

Jim brushes over the weird wording of ‘in love with’, because he knows Spock has difficulty bluntly admitting emotion. Instead, he argues, “Yes, I would. I’d just be bigger, uglier, and probably denser. But in this scenario, I’d still be _me_.”

“Unlikely. You are both a product of your genetic material and the environment in which you were raised. As a Klingon, you would be far more pre-disposed to aggression.”

Jim gets it but still teases, “So you love me because I’m docile?”

Spock lifts a brow. He probably recognizes that Jim’s baiting him. He doesn’t alter his position.

Jim sighs, “Fine.” He diverts back to his pasta. After a few more bites, he tries, “Would you still love me if I were a Horta?”

Spock pauses, then answers, “Yes.”

Jim groans, “Come on, Spock. They don’t even have limbs!”

“My relationship with you is not contingent on limbs.”

Shaking his head, Jim quietly notes, “That’d be a hell of a _pon farr_.”

Spock gives him a cold look, probably for mentioning the unmentionable in public, though Jim took care to make sure no one could overhear. A few more leafs, and Spock’s salad is gone. 

He smoothly announces, “I am finished with both my meal and this conversation. Good day, Captain.”

Jim snorts, “Good day, Spock,” and smiles fondly after the retreating back of his lover.


End file.
